


every morning

by morino



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morino/pseuds/morino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's not to love about Orcastle? A lot, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every morning

The rest of the night passes without much fanfare. Because Warren catching himself glancing across the room every now and again isn't really an interesting development, or one that he's going to acknowledge. He and Shane meet up with Ricky eventually, who has a suspicious looking spot on his shirt.

"Had a run in with some guy and his punch," Ricky had explained. Warren and Shane didn't bother entertaining the excuse by asking how the punch got spilled onto that one very specific area of his shirt, or why the spill was shaped like somebody's mouth. They also didn't bother pointing out the fact that there was no punch at the party, or any pinkish red drinks to speak of.

Warren sang with a guy. Ricky somehow got a lipstick stain on his shirt. Shane teased them both. The night carried an air of familiarity, but more importantly, it was a mundane start to what would hopefully turn out to be a mundane stay at the Orcastle Country Club.

.

There was a reason why Irma Novak didn't hope for things. But just this once, she thought she would be able to get away with it.

She had woken up after a crazy night of fizzy beverages and questions like 'who are you' and 'what will you be doing out here' and 'don't you think this karaoke thing's dumb', and was ready to start making the most of the free day she had before responsibility came knocking tomorrow. Irma had promised herself that she would make the most of it, so she showered, went to have breakfast, came back to her room, got out her bathing suit, and headed straight for what would soon be her work station: the outdoor pools.

It was summer, and she was in the presence of plenty of people cut from expensive cloths. That meant two things. One, bathing suits. Two, attractive rich young adults being wet in those bathing suits. In less than twenty four hours, it would be her job to monitor and protect them. But for today, she had hoped to spend her morning and afternoon happily ogling them between laps across the length of the pool.

She hoped.

Irma should have known better.  

At nine-thirty-five, Irma stepped out into the pool area and was greeted by not one, not two, but way too many families out in the water, all having themselves some good, clean, family-friendly fun.

Irma didn't bother holding in her groan as she padded along to the pool that wasn't being cannibalized by the complete opposite of what she'd wanted to get out of her trip today, spotting two couples, a girl sunbathing on a towel a safe distance away from the water, and one guy who seemed more interested in actually swimming than mingling with people that had come to check him out.

This was salvageable. She could just stick to one side of the pool, glance over at swimmer boy, do some swimming herself, and not let the weight of all of her shattered hopes and dreams pull her body to the very bottom of the pool.

With that thought, Irma gave herself a curt nod and turned on her heels, away from the two large pools and all of her ruined plans. There was no way in purgatory that she was doing this.

She was back indoors and closing in on the staircase that would lead her back to her room when she was stopped by a shirtless somebody on his way down, and judging by the towel slung over his shoulder and the trunks he was wearing, he was about to have the same rude awakening she'd been given. Irma pitied him a little, deciding not to shrug off his hand the moment he placed it on her shoulder.

"You do know the pool's in the opposite direction you're headed in, right?"

Well, that sympathy party lasted all of five seconds.

Irma's eyes narrowed and she pushed past him, or at least tried to. His height meant his shoulder wasn't exactly in her reach, and angrily brushing her shoulder against someone's arm didn't really have the same effect. But she worked with what she had, playing off the awkwardness of her shoulder-to-arm shove by simply not turning back to look at him again.

Her silent retaliation might have been a little lack luster (this fact driven home by the laugh Irma heard as she continued her ascent) but the first ten minutes of her morning have been brutal, so she decides to forgive herself for her poor showing just this once.

As Irma shuts the door, leaning her back against it as she let her towel and bag fall to the floor, she has a thought. A thought she is too tired to chastise herself for ever having, so it stays there, sitting quietly in the back of her mind.

_At least he wasn't terrible to look at._


End file.
